Page 34 of Phobia
“S’ok if I just hang?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he strolled to the couch and plopped down, snagging the remote from the end table.
“Yeah, sure. You know you don’t have to ask.”
After cleaning up the bloody leftovers from his hands and depositing the chicken breast back in the fridge for another night, I joined him on the couch. Since it was technically only a loveseat, there wasn’t much room, especially with his thick thighs spread, taking up most of the space.
As soon I sat, he hooked the inside of my knee and dragged my leg over the top of his rather than scooting over.
I didn’t mind, except for the fact his hand stayed where it was, casually draped along the inside of my thigh. Where his index finger touched bare skin instead of slinky basketball shorts, he drew tiny circles, almost absentmindedly.
I felt every one of them though, each one sending a jolt of electricity up my leg and straight to my dick. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. I was fixated on that one finger instead of whatever action movie he’d turned on.
He was drunk, that was all. And he was always fiddling with something in his hands. Pens, keys, whatever. It didn’t mean anything. We’d grown out of that phase of our friendship years ago, the one where we experimented with each other as teens or got each other off out of boredom or frustration.
Besides, I’d rather deal with blue balls than more heartbreak at the thought Larkin would never be mine. Not in the way I wanted. I had to content myself with being his friend and nothing more. It was such a fucking cliche, anyway. Falling for your straight best friend. Even though, I’d been his first… everything. First kiss. First hand job. Blowjob. The only thing we hadn’t tried was anal. But I hadn’t tried that with anyone except the dildo I kept stashed in my nightstand. Maybe there was a stupid part of me that was holding out hope he’d bethatfirst too.
I tried to subtly shift, angling my hips away from him to disguise the fact I was starting to pitch a tent right there for no goddamn reason other than the fact he was touching me.
His fingertips tightened on my leg, preventing me from getting far. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Just trying to get comfortable,” I lied. Unconvincingly, since his gaze zeroed in on the very thing I was attempting to hide.
“I can help with that. If you want.” His voice was low and husky, the scent of tequila wafting between us in the close space.
I should have kept my damn mouth shut. I should have thrown his hand off and gone to bed. I should have done a lot of things. But instead, I let my gaze slide to his. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a slow smile, the light from the TV illuminating one of the dimples that I loved. “You helped me”—he held his bandaged hand up—“I can help you.”
“I thought we were done with that?”
“We don’t have to be.”
“You know it’s not good for…”Me, I wanted to shout, but ended lamely with, “Our friendship.”
His fingertips drifted higher along my thigh, dragging the soft material with them and exposing more skin. Even the dusting of leg hair stood up, ready and begging for his attention. My whole body felt like it was charged with static electricity, waiting to discharge in one, massive jolt.
Either he was too drunk to hear me or too drunk to care because his hand continued to float northward, skimming along the crease of my thigh. The edge of his pinky grazed my sac and every muscle in my body tensed.
“Lark…” I swallowed thickly, desperate for him to stop but dying for him to continue.
Thanks to the angle of how we were sitting, his elbow pressed against my chest, keeping me flat against the couch as his hand snaked underneath the waistband of my shorts and his warm palm made contact with my cock.
“Freeballing,” he murmured, more to himself than me. Still, I nodded dumbly, trying not to combust on the spot. How long had it been since we’d done this? I couldn’t even remember. I tried not to think about him like that. Tried, and failed miserably. I’d been jerking off to fantasies of him since freshman year of high school. And shit like this didn’t help matters.
“You know,” he continued softly, shifting closer and running his fingertips up and down my shaft, “you could always take these off.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I muttered in a weak protest as the pad of his thumb circled my crown, spreading beads of pre-cum around the tip.
“Why not?” When I turned to face him, trying to be the voice of reason, one look at his molten gaze snatched the words right out of my mouth. All I could do was stare at him while he patiently waited for an answer, teasing me with soft, slow strokes, knowing I would cave. I always caved.
“You’re straight.” It was the only thing I could come up with in the moment. I hated that it was my go-to answer, but it was the only one I had.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around a dick. Especially your dick.” He fisted my cock and slid it up and down slowly, twisting at the crown the way he knew I liked.
“How many dicks do you know your way around?” I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know the answer to that. As far as I was aware, I was the only one, but who knew what secrets Larkin kept from me, especially from living in one of the frat houses on campus. Sports might not have been a thing at Tennebrose, but “social organizations” aka: frats and sororities certainly were, along with the rumored secret societies.
He rolled his lower lip between his teeth, letting his gaze travel down my bare torso to where his hand was moving steadily beneath the swishy material. He clearly wasn’t going to answer, which was both frustrating and humiliating.
I’d been in love with this man since we were kids, before I even knew what “gay” or “straight” meant. The thought of him with anyone else, girls andespeciallyother guys, made my skin prickle. But then he shifted again, slipping his bandaged hand inside the leg of my shorts to tease my balls while his dominant hand stroked my shaft, and I forgot all the reasons I was mad at him. No, I couldn’t have him in the way that I wanted, but I could have these moments with him even though I knew they were fleeting and would inevitably gut me along the way.
